


Thus Conscience Does Make Cowards of Us All

by JDSampson



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Gen, Government Conspiracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 21:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18948919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDSampson/pseuds/JDSampson
Summary: Allen is faced with a horrible decision: his family or his morals - what can Quinn do to help.





	1. Conscience

Thus Conscience Does Make Cowards of Us All

 

_Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,_

_And thus the native hue of resolution_

_Is sickled o’er with the pale cast of thought,_

_And enterprises of great pitch and moment_

_With this regard their currents turn away_

_And lose the name of action._

\--- Hamlet

 

“I don’t know why you insist on sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong! You’re a secretary. It’s your job to answer the phones and make coffee! You are not an expert. You are not cleared to be reviewing any documents coming in and out of this office. But still you insist on pretending you’re a part of the team in some foolish attempt to get Captain Quinn to acknowledge you for once. The way you look at him, it’s pathetic. He’s your boss and I’m your boss and you will do the job you were hired for and nothing more!”

“HEY!” Quinn couldn’t believe what he’d walked in on: Allen Hynek going ballistic in the office tearing Faye down brick by brick. He expected them both to turn and smile and say April Fool’s Day or maybe this was some weird nightmare brought on by the bickering couple he’d seen on the Late Late Late Show. But no.

“What the hell is going on?”

He physically stepped between the two of them, his back to Faye because he couldn’t look her in the eye just yet after hearing what he’d heard. Allen was doing short laps in front of his desk and there was an intensity radiating off him that Quinn had rarely seen before.

“She’s been in the military long enough to understand the word classified.” Allen shot back but down a notch from his earlier tone. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask that she . . . protocol and there’s privacy. . . It’s unconscionable. “

Which made no sense. Seriously, what the hell?

Quinn’s jaw was twitching but he forced a neutral expression before turning to face Faye. He caught her wiping away a few tears, trying to hang on to the last shred of dignity left in her body. Seeing him looking at her, she snapped to attention, chin lifted, eyes focusing on the clock on the wall behind and to the left of him.

“Faye,” as soft as he could manage around wanting to punch someone. “Would you give us the room, please?”

He saw her swallow hard, try to form words around that lump that wouldn’t move, then just a nod before she fled.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Quinn whirled on Hynek who was facing the other way. “What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you ever speak to her that way again.” Low, deep and menacing. “Faye is not just a secretary. She is a member of this team. I don’t think you’re even aware of all the things she does to make our lives easier because you’re always in that little bubble of yours. Nights, weekends, three in the morning; she’s on the phone making sure we have a place to sleep and a way to get home. She handles a hundred crackpot calls a week, so we don’t have to, and when you forget to eat, who do you think leaves food on your desk? Fairies?

“Faye looks after us – you AND me and what I heard you say to her just now was not only inaccurate and inappropriate, it was rude and hurtful. You get away with a lot playing that oblivious professor card, but not this time. You better have a damn good reason why you attacked her.”  

Allen moved further into the room, his back still to Quinn and it was the last straw.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you! That’s an order!” Habit.

Allen turned, slowly. He looked as wrecked as Faye, but minus the tears. “I am not a soldier,” he said quietly, carefully. “I’m a civilian who was asked to come here to help, to make the brass look good in the papers. I don’t take orders from you.”

He grabbed his briefcase, stuffed some papers inside then headed for the coat rack. Quinn caught him by the arm and there was a moment of deep tension that rivaled anything they’d ever shared. Ten times worse that the emotions that had them brawling like schoolboys when Thomas took them all hostage.

This close, Quinn saw something in Allen’s eyes that he’d never seen before. Fear? Pain? Whatever it was, it took the wind out Quinn’s sails. “What is going on, Doc?” No anger. Sympathy and confusion. “Talk to me.”

Allen opened his mouth. His eyes said he really, really wanted to say what was on his mind. But at the last second, he yanked his arm free and put distance between them. “I can’t do this anymore.” He grabbed his hat and pulled his coat so hard the rack almost tipped over. Then he was out the door leaving a stunned Quinn behind.

He continued to stand there in the empty office, again thinking this must be some prank or a freaky mind game. Aliens, maybe? That would make us much sense as anything else right now.

Gathering his wits about him, he stepped into the outer office – not a conversation he wanted to have but had to have. Faye wasn’t at her desk. Airman Wilcox, who hadn’t been there when Quinn came in, was now at his desk, head down, clearly hoping that he wasn’t about to be included in the fight.

“Where’s Faye?”

“She went to the ladies’ room, sir.” Quick look up then back at the faux busy work. 

“When she comes back, ask her to step into my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quinn went back to his desk his mind on military protocol – one of the words that Hynek had tossed out during his rant. Quinn wasn’t big on protocol. During war time, on the front lines, an officer had to enforce the rules and keep it tight but Blue Book was more like an office job. There was a chain of command, like any good organization but he’d never enforced the nuances that made the Air Force, the Air Force. Like calling subordinates by their first name. Perhaps by allowing subordinates to forget they were subordinate.

True or not, Allan Hynek wasn’t big on military order, so for him to get upset over a break in ranks. . . it was all too odd.

Quinn had time to light up a cigarette and smoke it half-way down before Faye knocked then entered when he called.

“You wanted to see me, Captain Quinn, sir?”

Speaking of military protocol.

“Sit down,” he nodded toward the couch and was surprised that she caught it since she was looking past him again. This was painful.

Quinn joined her on the couch, wanted to tell her look him in the eye (he hated talking to people who wouldn’t look him in the eye) but decided that would only exacerbate the situation.  “Tell me what happened.”

Faye dropped her gaze to her hands clutched tightly in her lap. “I’m very sorry that I upset Doctor Hynek. I know he’s a very important man and very valuable to Project Blue Book and—”

“Faye,” Quinn cut her off. “I’ve never even seen you make so much as a typo on a report. So, I find it hard to believe you did something so wrong that you deserved that tongue lashing. Just tell me what happened.”

She sucked in a huge breath, holding back more tears, and still wouldn’t look at him. “When I come in every morning, the mail is on the floor, you know, because of the mail slot in the door. Only today there was a thick envelope that was partially ripped open because it was too big for the slot. I opened it all the way to discard the torn bits. Doctor Hynek’s name was on the front of the envelope, so I probably shouldn’t have opened it, but his name was spelled wrong. I know it’s tricky, I’m constantly spelling it for people over the phone, but it was written all wonky and it just looked like. . .”

“Like a package from one of our more colorful friends,” Quinn finished. There was a small group of Project Blue Book fanatics who delighted in sending gruesome images, disgusting stories and the occasional dead animal in a box. Since Faye was the one who opened the mail, she’d seen it all and had orders to always hand those over to Quinn himself, never to the Professor.

“I was just doing my job.”

“Yes, you were. So what was in the envelope?” Now Quinn was really curious.

“Papers,” She lifted her eyes but not her head. “I only skimmed over them. Notes on a Captain Edmunds or Edison. I wasn’t reading the documents. I swear. I just noticed some of it was medical and something about test trials. I really wasn’t trying to pry.”

“I know.” Quinn laid his hand over hers and she looked up met his eyes and he thought better of the touch. He took his hand back. “I’m guessing you gave Doctor Hynek the papers and. . . “

“At first nothing. He barely glanced at them or any of the mail and I thought I should tell him about the ripped envelope and that made him pick them up and look at them more carefully. He got really upset. Started asking me why I took them out of the envelope, and did I read them and they were addressed to him and I had no right and he got more and more angry and then you came in.”

Her whole face flushed red and he knew this wasn’t about the overreach of her authority. This was about Hynek’s more personal observation.

Quinn wasn’t oblivious. He knew she had feelings for him. . . or maybe ‘thoughts about him’ was more accurate. It was a little awkward at times, but she was good at her job and he trusted her with all the tiny details that made the day run smoother. Maybe that was selfish. Maybe his ego didn’t mind the stroke. Whatever the reason, he’d never considered having her transferred and now he wondered if that choice had played a part in all of this.

“You didn’t do anything wrong and even if you did, he had no right to talk to you like that. There has to be more to this. Some problem at home. . . let’s let him have today and tomorrow we’ll get it all straightened out.” He stood and she stood, her eyes still looking everywhere but at him.

“Am I dismissed?”

“You can go back to work, yes.” And he went back to his desk to get the cigarette he’d left in the ashtray.

“Captain Quinn, sir,” Faye said, hand on the doorknob. “I’m sorry if I made anyone feel uncomfortable. I really like working for you – for Project Blue Book – but if you’d rather I didn’t. . . “

“Maybe you didn’t hear me say it to the Doc, but I did say it. You’re part of the team. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I would, too. Thank you, sir.” She left, closing the door behind her.

Hell of a way to start the day.

Quinn dropped into his office chair brain working overtime on what could have gotten into Hynek. It had to be a problem at home. Things had been quiet around the office. They hadn’t been on a case for almost two weeks – so nothing for Mimi Hynek to complain about there.

Mimi.

Ever since their trip to Hollywood, she had started treating Quinn more as a part of the family than Allan’s evil mistress. Sunday dinners, backyard barbeques – always with that extra touch of ‘feel free to bring a date’. He never did because there was no one to bring. Plus, he enjoyed spending time with the Hynek’s as a family. Pitching horseshoes (Allen always won thanks to his knowledge of physics).  Basketball in the driveway (Quinn for the win). Telling spooky stories with only a flashlight in the ‘bomb shelter’ (Joel’s favorite). He’d even taken Joel on a few outings; just the two of them to the movies and once to the airfield to check out the old planes. No flying, though. Allen clearly hadn’t gotten over the Fuller plane crash.

Quinn was close to picking up the phone to call Mimi when it rang.

It was Private Wilcox. “I have Sheriff Blaine from Tuscumbia on the line for you?”

“Put it through.” There was some shuffling and then the quality of the call changed.

“Sheriff? Captain Michael Quinn. Thanks for returning my call.” Quinn leaned back in his chair, cradled the phone under his chin and lit another cigarette. “I got a report from a Mrs. Ethel Passwater, saying that small aliens with glowing gems in their chests killed every flower in her garden. She said she reported it but you didn’t take her seriously, so she wanted Blue Book to come investigate.”

“I told that old woman not to call you, but folks always think they know better than this old man. There are no aliens in Alabama, you can take that to the bank young fella.”

“I believe you, but my bosses aren’t going to sign off until I have an explanation to go with that opinion.”

The sheriff breathed heavily into the phone and Quinn instantly pictured an overweight, overworked law man who spent more time soothing ruffled feathers versus chasing down actual criminals. “You want an explanation, here you go Mrs. Passwater was hoping to win first prize in the Tuscumbia Women’s Club Flower Festival this year. She keeps coming in second to Mrs. Abernathy who has about six dozen kids. A week ago, a rumor started circulating that Mrs. P was going to take that award and suddenly little gremlins are running amuck in her garden.”

“She said they had no necks.”

“It’s cold here at night. I’m thinking sweatshirts with hoods. At night, that could give the appearance of a no neck alien. And those chest lights she mentioned. Probably lanterns hung around their necks so they didn’t fall in the dark and break their necks.”

Quinn was impressed. “I’m with you, but how do you explain the dead flowers. She said they weren’t trampled, just killed.”

“Yeah, that part does have me a little stumped. The garden is pristine but everything in it is as dead as it can get.”

“Do you have somebody around there that can test the soil?”

“We got an agricultural college a couple of hours from here. I suppose they could.”

“Get them out there, send the bill to me here at Wright Patterson Air Force Base.” Quinn gave the sheriff the address. “I’m betting you’re going to find some kind of poison. If you do, that’ll save me a trip. If you come up empty, we’ll be meeting in person.”

“Not that I’d mind, you seem like a decent fellow with some good stories to tell but it’d be a wasted trip. It’s Mrs. Abernathy’s doing, I’m sure of it. I’ll call you in a day or two with the results.”

“I appreciate it.” Quinn hung up the phone. He dug out the file he’d started the day before, made a few notes for Faye to type up later then set it aside.

He took a long drag on his cigarette thinking about the pages that had set Hynek off that morning. Maybe he was wrong about trouble at home. Faye said the Doc didn’t get upset until he saw the contents of the opened envelope.

He picked up the phone handset again and dialed an internal number.

“Personnel, Sergeant Lewis.”

“This is Captain Quinn over at Blue Book. Would it be possible to get a list of Officers on the base with a last name starting with E?”

There was a pause. “E, sir? As in Extraterrestrial?”

Quinn rolled his eyes, people never tired of the jokes. “That’s right, E as in Extraterrestrial.”

“May I ask why you need the information, Captain?”

Hmm. . . “Part of an on-going investigation. I’m not at liberty to say anymore.” Tap the ash in the ash tray.

“Personnel records are confidential.”

“I’m not looking for records, I just want a list of names. If necessary, I can get General Harding to speak with your commanding officer—”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll pull it together for you.”

Quinn hung up not expecting much. His thought was that Faye might recognize a single name on the list. How many officers could there be on the base with a last initial of ‘E’? Twenty? Fifty? If she could pin it down he could find an excuse to pull just that one person’s records and maybe that would tell him. . . . what?

It was another wild plover chase. Useless information without input from Hynek. Again, he considering picking up the phone or maybe driving over to the professor’s home but before he could decide Faye stuck her head in.

“Your budget meetings starts in ten minutes.”

Damn. He’d forgotten. Yet another reason to hang on to Faye. She never missed a cue.

“I’m on my way.” Quinn pocketed his cigarettes and lighter, grabbed his hat but left his top coat behind. The conference room for the meeting was just two buildings away. The walk took him three minutes. The meeting took three hours.

When he finally got back to the office, Mimi Hynek was there waiting for him.

 

#   #  #

Quinn had never seen the woman so unkempt. She was perched on the edge of the couch, in very much the same handwringing pose that Faye had assumed earlier. Mimi’s hair was messy. No makeup. Eyes swollen and face tracked with dried tears.

He instantly thought of the Professor’s out of character behavior earlier that morning and now he knew for sure that something was going on at home.

“Mimi? Has something happened to Allen?” He sat down beside her, and this time didn’t hesitate to take the woman’s hands in his.

“Joel. He never home from school last night. We thought he was at a friend’s house or at the new playground. He’s terrible about the time, especially when he’s exploring. He likes to pretend that he’s an astronaut on another planet. He picks up rocks and bits of trash and collects them as specimens to study. I didn’t worry too much until he missed dinner. I should have looked for him sooner, but he gets distracted and forgets about the time so I didn’t worry until it was too late.”

“Too late?” A million horrible accidents buzzed through Quinn’s mind but just as quickly he let all of those thoughts go. If Joel had been hurt, Hynek wouldn’t have come into the office. “I don’t understand. Mimi,” He tugged her hands urging her to focus. “What happened to Joel?”

She stared at him a moment as if she couldn’t remember who he was or why she was there then a fresh river of tears filled her eyes. “They took my baby. They have him and they want Allen to do something to get him back, but he won’t tell me what. He didn’t tell you, did he? They said not to, but I thought he would. He trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone else, so I thought for sure. . . so when he said he didn’t, I knew it had to be something horrible.”

Quinn was trying to process but there were so many missing pieces, so many questions. He took out his handkerchief and gave it to Mimi to blow her nose and wipe away the tears. “Allen didn’t tell me anything, but I figured something was wrong, the way he was acting. How do you know Joel was abducted? Did you get a ransom note or a call?”

“A call. A woman. She called last night and told Allen to go to the playground. That he’d find proof there. He found Joel’s lunchbox. There was a note inside and a small box but he wouldn’t let me see them close. Oh god, Michael—” She pressed her hand to her mouth as if she might be sick right then and there. “What if. . . the box. . . my baby.”

Quinn followed the thought for a half a second then drove that from his mind. “Mimi, don’t think like that. Joel is fine. He’s their bargaining chip, they’re not going to hurt him.” Not yet, anyway. “What did they want in return? Money?”

“No. Something from here on the base. That’s why he came here today. Didn’t you see him?”

“Just briefly, he was very upset, wouldn’t say why. He picked up some files and left.”

“That must be it then,” she said, gaining some small amount of control. “They just want information, but he’s so torn up over it. I can tell. He can’t decide what to do and he wouldn’t discuss it with me. He locked himself in his study and he said he had to think. But what’s to think about? This is our son. What could be so important that it’s worth our son’s life?”

“It’s treason,” Quinn said softly, more thinking out loud than anything else. “If they catch him giving military secrets to a foreign power, he’ll go to prison for life.” Which is why Allen hadn’t told Quinn, so he wouldn’t be put in a position of having to lie for his partner. A position Quinn was intimately familiar with. But covering-up a cover-up was one thing, handing over military secrets was another.

“Oh God. I made things worse, didn’t I?” She grabbed hold of Quinn by the jacket. “Please don’t turn him in. Please don’t risk Joel’s life. Michael, please.”

He took hold of her hands, gently urged her to let go then pulled her into a hug. “I’m family now, remember? Sunday dinners. You did the right thing coming here.” He pulled back from the embrace and caught her eye. “I’m going to drive you home. Don’t say anything else until we’re in the car. Understood?”

She didn’t understand but she shook her head yes anyway. Quinn was already worried about what prying ears might have heard, but when he left the office, Faye was gone, and Wilcox was on the phone. He considered making up an excuse for why Mimi was there and why they were leaving together but decided that saying nothing was better than a lie.

He rushed her out to her car, put her in the passenger seat and took the wheel. Neither of them spoke until they were off the base.

“He must be so scared,” Mimi said softly. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned sideways on the seat facing Quinn. “I slept in Joel’s room last night. It was such a mess. He’s so bad about cleaning up after himself.”

“Like father like son,” said Quinn. Allen’s spaces were always a mass of paper and books, trash and gadgets. Quinn preferred to keep his spaces neat and organized. Not a bad match in the office but irritating on long car rides and in shared motel rooms. “The last time I was over, Joel showed me his rock collection. He ferreted them out from all over his room, but he knew the names of all of them. Sounded just like the Professor rattling off scientific terms – I can’t follow half of what he’s saying but I’m sure it’s all correct.”

Mimi laughed a little. “With Allen yes but Joel likes to embellish. He brought an old Hudson headlamp into school for show-and-tell and insisted that it was part of a spaceship. Given Allen’s work on Blue Book his teacher got worried that he was telling the truth and that it was dangerous. She sent him to the office, and I had to go down to talk to the Principal. It was all so silly.” Then she began to cry so hard she couldn’t breathe.

Quinn slipped his arm around her and pulled her close. “It’s going to be alright,” he said because he knew he should not because he believed it.

Mimi didn’t believe it. She literally cried on his shoulder, the rest of the way home.  

 


	2. And lose the name of action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn has a plan - but at what cost?

Allen locked himself in his study to think. It wasn’t fair to Mimi, to leave her alone at a time like this but he had to clear his head. Had to figure out what to do. Were there other options? Could he even trust Joel’s kidnapper to hold up her end of the bargain if he followed through?

Even if he agreed to do what she asked, that came with its own set of problems. Someone on the base had dropped off the file. That meant she had a contact who would know if he tried to lie his way out of this mess. But if she had a contact, why did she need him?

Strike that. He knew why. Because he was one of only two people with a legitimate excuse to talk to the man. Get close to the man. Captain Charlie Edwards was buried deep thanks to a single signature.

Allen picked up the page that had stopped him dead.

_It is my belief that Captain Edwards is suffering from survivor’s guilt after the crash of his plane that took the lives of his crew. His mind created this story about aliens in order to protect him from the truth – that it was pilot error and that he alone was responsible for the death of his fellow soldiers. Only a full psych eval from a qualified psychiatrist can determine whether he’ll ever be fit to return to duty. But I can say with certainty, that the crash was not caused by aliens._

_This case, as far as my department is concerned, is officially closed._

_Captain Michael Quinn_

_Project Blue Book_

 

A psychiatrist concurred with Quinn’s untrained evaluation and it was determined that Edwards would stand trial for his roll in the crash. After that, the paperwork got murky. Something about Edwards agreeing to a series of tests. There were a dozen pages filled with cryptic notes about “sessions” and “adverse reactions”, “positive response” and what looked like drug trials.

All of it happening somewhere on the base. He knew this because two weeks prior, Edwards appeared in the infirmary with ‘self-inflicted wounds’. The next page in the file was a report from the MP’s stating that they suspected Edwards had help ‘escaping’. Probably the same person who had stolen the file and delivered it to Hynek.

Four hours after his escape, Edwards was back in his cell. If Allen was reading right, the drug doses were increased after that.

What the hell were they doing to this man? Why had he agreed to be a test subject? Had he gone in thinking it would be easier than doing time in jail? Or was Quinn closer to the answer when he suggested survivor’s guilt. Maybe Edwards agreed to be a Guinea pig because he thought he deserved that and worse.

Then along comes Quinn with his insatiable need to close the case. Nothing to see here. Move along. Another close encounter exploited weeks before Hynek’s arrival.

And now Joel’s life was on the line and Allen couldn’t help but blame his partner – he needed to blame someone.

He also needed a break. A drink.

He left his study expecting to find Mimi on the couch or in Joel’s room. She’d spent the night in their son’s bed, crying until exhaustion pulled her into a fitful sleep.

She wasn’t in either place. What he did find was a note in her hand: ‘Going for a drive. Be back soon’.

Concerning, but he could understand her need to get out. She probably went to the playground, maybe the school, any place where she might see her son and realize this whole thing was just a bad dream.

He shouldn’t have left her alone.

Allen fixed himself a drink then sat down on the couch. One of Joel’s books was laying on the coffee table. Tom Corbett: Stand By For Mars. He picked up the book and ran his hand over the colorful cover. He vaguely recalled his son telling him about the story but only vaguely. He’d had other things on his mind and wasn’t really listening. He always had other things on his mind. It had been like that for as long as Allen could remember: a constant stream of questions and answers running through his head. Most of the time he could tune it out in order to focus on work, bills, having a conversation with another human being. But sometimes. . . okay, more often than he’d like to admit . . . he had trouble listening to anything other than the voices in his head.

He opened the book to a random page and began to read:

 _"Many men have contributed to the knowledge that will be placed in front of you—brave, intelligent men, who blasted through the atmosphere with a piece of metal under them for a spaceship and a fire in their tail for rockets. But everything they accomplished goes to waste if the unit can't become a single personality. It must be a single personality, or it doesn't exist. The unit is the ultimate of hundreds of years of research and progress. But you have to fight to create it and keep it living. Either you want it, or you get out of the Academy!"_  
  
Captain Strong turned away momentarily and Tom and Astro looked at Roger significantly.  
  
"Stand to!"  
  
The three boys snapped to attention as the wide-shouldered captain addressed them again.

 _  
_ Captain Strong? No wonder Joel was so enamored with Quinn. He was like a fictional character come to life. Joel wanted to be a hero like him, not a stuffed shirt like his old man. Couldn’t blame the boy. Quinn was athletic and funny, and he had this easy way of talking with Joel that Allen had never mastered.

A few Sundays ago, Allen had stood by the window watching Quinn and Joel wrestling in the grass while Mimi set the picnic table with hamburgers from the grill. They were the picture of the perfect family only he wasn’t part of the picture.

Most parents would feel joy at the sound of their child’s laughter, but that day he’d felt nothing but pain. Jealous of a man who was going home alone to an empty apartment while he got to live in this lovely home with a beautiful wife and a fine son. What would the base psychiatrist say about that?

A car pulled into the drive.

Allen closed the book but couldn’t bring himself to put it down. He carried it with him as he wearily stood and trudged to the door. He didn’t hurry. Didn’t want to face the wife he’d failed.

The front door opened, and Mimi stepped inside. She wasn’t alone. Quinn was with her.   
  
 “No! Mimi, what have you done? He can’t be here! He has to leave. You have to leave!”

Quinn closed the door behind them, ignoring Allen’s frantic pleas. “Mimi told me everything and I’m here to help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Yes, I do!” Allen turned on his wife in the same way he’d turned on Faye earlier that morning. “Do understand what you’ve done? She said not to tell anyone on the base. Someone there is watching. Did you know that? Someone on the base delivered a file to me this morning. She has an accomplice on the base and if he saw you leave with Quinn. Oh god, Mimi. What if they’re spooked or angry because they can’t trust me to keep my word? They could disappear and we’ll never see our son again.”

What little strength Mimi had left was completely wiped out by his outburst. She collapsed but Quinn was there to catch her.

“Easy, honey,” he said softly. “It’s going to be alright. You need to get some rest.” Supporting most of her weight, Quinn led her from the room, presumably to put her to bed. Again, Allen felt the tearing of his heart. He knew he should go to his wife but sitting at her side wouldn’t save their son.

Still clutching the book to his chest, he retrieved his drink and threw back the last of it.

“Do you have any sleeping pills?”

That question jolted him out of his thoughts. How did. . . ? “What? Sleeping pills? Why would you ask that?”

“She needs to sleep, and we need to talk.”

Mimi. Of course. “I think so. She’s always buying them for me, but I never take them. In the medicine cabinet.”

Quinn disappeared again and Allen began to pace. Quinn or no Quinn, there were only two ways this could go. If he didn’t follow through, he’d spend the rest of life mourning the loss of his son. If he did find the strength to finish it, then his son would spend the rest of his life mourning the loss of his father. Lose, lose either way.

Allen dropped into the nearest chair and the tears he’d held back for nearly 24 hours began to fall.

 

#   #  #

Quinn gave Mimi a couple of sleeping pills then covered her with a blanket from the foot of Joel’s bed. “Get some sleep. I promise, I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

He left the bedroom, closing the door behind him and returned to the living room in time to see Hynek collapse into a dining room chair. It was crushing to watch this family that he’d grown so fond of falling apart. And if he let himself think about young Joel for even a moment – what the boy must be going through – he had to bury it so he could think smart.

Quinn put one hand on Allen’s back while he clutched his friend’s arm with the other hand. “What do they want from you?”

Nothing.

“It has to do with that file that Faye gave you. What? Who is that?”

Nothing.

“Doc, come on. Let me help you.”

That did it. Allen jerked his arm away then stumbled over the chair as he put distance between them. “You’ve done enough already.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You and your compulsive need to close the case. Don’t worry about the people or the truth, just say it’s anything but aliens, stamp the file closed and move on.”

Quinn was even more confused than ever. “What does this have to do with Joel?”

“Captain Charlie Edwards,” Allen shot back. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

“No. Will you please explain—”

Allen dashed into his office and came back with a stack of papers that he slammed down on the table in front of Quinn. “Captain Charlie Edwards. His transport plane crashed into a mountain and everyone in the plane died – except for him. He said aliens abducted him from the pilot seat. That’s why the plane crashed, that’s why he survived.” Allen flipped page after page until he found the one. “You said he was crazy. You gift wrapped him for a psych eval then signed off. Just like that.”

Shit. The name wasn’t enough, but the circumstances. . . how could he forget. It was the early days of Blue Book. Before Hynek had been assigned, just weeks after he himself had accepted the post. No training. No rule book. You’re an interrogator they said, so interrogate. Get these people to tell the truth so we can convince the public that we’re alone in the universe.

“Edwards was only my second case. When he said alien, I figured he was having a mental breakdown. Anyone, in their right mind, would have come to the same conclusion.”

“Anyone who was more interested in sucking up to his superiors than finding out the truth.”

“What truth? That aliens exist? I didn’t know then what I know now and I’m still not 100% convinced. What I did know for sure was that I was under orders to make those cases go away.”

“And that’s what you did.”

“Of course. What did you expect me to do? Say no? Say, hey this guy might be telling the truth? Even if I believed it, you’ve heard Harding say it over and over – find an explanation and close the case.”

Allen shook his head like he wasn’t getting through. “Edwards, Thomas, how many others came to you for help? How many others did you turn away? How many more would you have called a liar if it wasn’t for me?”

“Seriously? Doc, look at yourself! Now look at me! See the difference? That suit your wearing means you get to say what you truly believe and still go home to your wife. This uniform I’m wearing means I don’t have that luxury. If I don’t follow orders; I end up in the stockade.” Quinn stopped himself. He was yelling, matching Hynek’s angry tone and rising volume. Not good. He took a breath. Directed himself to calm down. “Doc, what does any of this have to do with Joel?”

Allen dropped back into the dining chair. It was as if he’d used up the last of his energy on the tirade against Quinn. “She wants me to kill him.”

“What? Kill who?”

“Captain Edwards. He’s on the base. Apparently, they’ve been conducting experiments on him for months.”

“Like Fuller and the Foo Fighter boys?”

Allen sniffed, ran his arm across his eyes. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

Quinn reached to touch his friend again but held back this time. “Why does this woman want him dead?”

“I don’t know.” Allen motioned vaguely toward his study. “Joel’s lunchbox.”

Quinn went into the study, easily found the Space Cadet lunchbox. He brought it back to the dining table before opening it up.

Inside, there was a small, cardboard box and a note written in a woman’s hand.

_‘The bottle contains a poison that will stop Charlie’s heart. It will take a few minutes, so if you’re clever and quick they won’t know it was you. When I get confirmation that he’s gone, I will return your son to you. I am sorry but you wouldn’t help me any other way. I will call again tomorrow, after 2:00 to see what progress you’ve made. Your son wants to go home. Don’t keep him waiting.’_

Quinn opened up the box. The bottle inside looked like something from a hospital. It was unlabeled and filled with a white powder. Poison in a child’s lunchbox. The combination gave him a chill.

“Edwards is being held somewhere on the base,” said Allen, gaining energy as he spoke. “She thinks I can figure out where. Make up a lie that will get me past his watchdogs. Men who have been guarding this secret for months so that even you and I didn’t know this was going on under our noses. Convince them to leave me alone with him then pour a vial of poison down his throat while what. . . he just sits there and lets me do it?” Allen made a fist, bounced his arm against the table like he was going to slam it down but never made contact. “Why? What he is to her? Are they spies? Is she afraid he’ll tell what he knows? But even that doesn’t make sense. He’s been in custody for months, why go after him now?”

A few more bits and pieces fell into place. Things Quinn had forgotten or had pushed aside from his first month on the job. Before Hynek, he’d been able to look the other way, but now the Doc was like Jiminy Cricket, sitting on his shoulder reminding him to be truthful and honorable.

He reached for a cigarette as the sickening feeling that this was all his fault took over his body. “This isn’t about secrets. I think this is family.”

“What do you mean? Whose family?”

The phone rang.

It was almost 3.

Allen went to the wall phone while Quinn dashed into the study to grab the extension.

“Doctor Hynek?” The woman. “Is your son coming home tonight?”

“You’re Charlie’s sister, aren’t you?” Quinn.

There was silence for a moment and Quinn imagined Allen was on the verge of throwing another fit.

“This is Captain Quinn.” Owning up. “I know we’ve met but I’m sorry I don’t remember your name.”

More silence. Quinn picked the phone up by the base and carried it out of the study as far as the cord would allow. He could see Allen standing with his forehead against the wall, phone clutched tightly in his hand and to his ear.

“It’s okay, Doc,” Quinn said his voice carrying both through the phone and through the air. “I’m going to make this right.”

“You should,” she said. “You pretend that it’s all on the up and up. You stand in front of the cameras and talk to the newspapers like it’s all a big misunderstanding. It’s weather balloons and owls in a tree. You smile and wave and assure us all that the monsters are only in the movies. But you’re the monsters, messing with their minds, experimenting and for what? What are you trying to accomplish by torturing my brother?” Anger mixed with sorrow.

Allen lifted his head and turned toward Quinn and I’ll be damned if he didn’t have the same mix of anger and sorrow on his face.

“Miss Edwards,” Quinn said with his very best, most sincere, yes ma’am voice. “Whatever part I might have played in this, please don’t take it out on innocent boy. Let Doctor Hynek talk to his son. If I know he’s safe, I’ll take care of your brother.”

“No!” Allen aimed that at Quinn but a moment later realized the unintended consequences. Back to the phone. “Please let me talk to my son. Just for a minute and then we’ll figure this out.”

“Fine. Hold on,” she said then she set handset down on a hard surface.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Doc,” said Quinn. “This is on me and even if it wasn’t, you don’t have it in you to kill a man. I do.”

“In a war, yes but the war is over!”

“Is it?” Quinn let the hand holding the receiver drop. He wanted to hang up. Get this over with but he wanted to hear Joel’s voice first. “Attacks from above. Panic in our towns. Civilians caught in the line of fire. We have Nazi’s whipping up rockets and Russians spies. That all sounds like war to me.”

“None of that justifies murder! Michael, you –” He stopped as soft voices billowed through the phone. Just snatches of words; talk, father, home. The fumble of the handset being lifted from the table then a small voice.

“Dad?”

“Joel,” Allen breathed out the name. “Are you alright?”

Quinn brought the handset up to his ear so he could hear the boy.

“Yes. We’ve been watching TV and she made me lunch.” He paused, lowered his voice to an almost whisper. “I just want to come home.”

Quinn hung up, left the phone on the floor and hurried to the door as Allen continued to talk.

“Soon, son. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I just have to take care of something before she can bring you home.”

Quinn grabbed the bottle of poison from the lunchbox. Pocketed it, then left the house, moving as quick as he could. He wanted to be gone before Allen got off the phone. He’d made his decision, but he wasn’t sure it would hold up if he had to look his partner in the eye right now.

He got back behind the wheel of the Hynek’s car and drove off. If Allen wanted to follow, he’d have to get a cab. That would leave Quinn plenty of time to get where he was going and do what he had to do.

 

#   #  #

Allen stretched out the conversation with his son as long as possible. The more they talked, the more normal the boy sounded, and Allen could only hope that the chat was giving his child some comfort.

“Give me the phone, please.” The woman.

“I have to go,” said Joel. “Tell mom I’m being brave.”  
  
“I will, son.” He paused because the next words were hard to say but he finally pushed out “I love you” though it may have been too late for Joel to hear. The woman was back on the line.

“I hope the Captain wasn’t lying. I want this to end as much as you do.”

“I doubt that,” said Allen.

“We’ll talk to tomorrow.” Then she hung up.

Allen held on to the phone until the dial tone kicked in then wearily set it back on the hook. Another tomorrow. Another night away from home. He wasn’t sure he could get through another day of this.

Now what? Go after Quinn to stop him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to and that hurt in so many ways. If Edwards died, Joel would be safe, and he’d still have his father. But Joel’s beloved Captain Strong (aka Captain Quinn) would be on trial for murder.

Or not. Quinn was smart. If the poison took time to work, he could slip it into Edwards’ drink and get out before it did the job. That might save him, except there would still be a record stating he was the last to see the man alive. Then again, Quinn had a knack for charming his way around the rules. Maybe he could get in and out unnoticed.

“Allen!” Mimi’s screams cut right through him. He ran to their bedroom – empty. Ran to their son’s room and there she was, half on and half off the twin bed. She was clutching a pillow to her chest and she was soaked with sweat and tears.

“Help him. He’s hurt. I don’t know what’s wrong, but he’s hurt. Please, help him!”

Confusion brought on by the sleeping pills. “Honey,” he sat down beside her and bundled her into his arms. Something he hadn’t done enough of since this whole thing started.

“Joel’s fine. He’s not hurt. I just talked to him and he said to tell you he loves you.”

“He did? Why didn’t he come home from school?” She looked at him with unfocused eyes. “Why isn’t he home?”

“He’s staying at a friend’s house, remember? He’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Mimi sank into her husband’s embrace and he kissed her on the top of the head.

“Yes, tomorrow.” And oh, how he hoped that were true.

 

#   #  #

 

Most people who worked at Wright Patterson Air Force Base would tell you that Q Building – the smallish structure in the far west corner of the base, was nothing but dead storage. It was one of several buildings that had been active during the war, when the base was running at full capacity. But in the last few years, the personnel numbers had dropped and with it the need to use every inch of space. Since Q was so far off track from the rest of the buildings on base, it was a logical choice for storing records no one ever needed.

And when you entered on ground level, that’s exactly what it looked like – dozens of overflowing file cabinets and boxes full of paper, all covered in dust.

That’s what it looked like but that wasn’t what it was. The back office led to a staircase and an underground maze of concrete rooms. It had been built as a secret bomb shelter for high ups on the base who didn’t want to spend a post bomb apocalypse with common airmen and civilians.

Quinn got a tour of the place upon his arrival because that’s where they were keeping Airman Delvecchio – the first case on Project Blue Book’s plate. He was dangerous they said. Had to be kept away from the general population for everyone’s good. After hearing his story, Quinn signed off on the diagnosis of ‘delusional’ due to shell shock.

Though he’d never seen Charlie Edwards in Q Building, Quinn was sure he’d find him there now.

The MP on the door recognized Quinn and his connection to Blue Book, which made it easy to convince the man that a meeting with Edwards was vital. National Security, new evidence, a follow-up that would likely yield nothing but the Air Force ran on paperwork, so Quinn had to put in his due diligence. Sounding like he didn’t really want to waste his day on this made it even easier to believe.

So the MP settled him in an interview room and said he’d be back in a few minutes with Edwards.

“Don’t expect much,” the MP said on his way out. Quinn didn’t understand until he saw the man.

Quinn’s first impression was that the man was melting, like Vincent Price in House of Wax. The flesh on the right side of his face was sliding down, pulling on his lower lid making his eye socket look like bottomless pit with a small marble floating near the top. His mouth was so crooked it almost formed a diagonal line from the perfectly fine left side down to the too low chin on the right. The perpetually open state of his mouth meant that there was a permanent river of saliva running down the side of his face and on to his shirt.

By contrast, it was the left side of Edwards’ body that was distorted and curled with a kind of palsy. He shuffled into the room partially under his own power, correcting the misdirection of a turned in left foot with each step.

Quinn’s instinct was to get up and help the man but by the time his body caught up with his mind Edwards was already being lowered into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

“Charlie,” the MP said in a tone that was much friendlier than expected. “This is Captain Quinn from Project Blue Book. He wants to talk to you about what happened that day.” Then to Quinn he said, “you won’t get more than ten minutes out of him. Sitting upright takes it out of him pretty quick, so talk fast. I’ll be down the hall. Call out when you’re done, and I’ll come get Charlie.” He patted Edwards on the shoulder. “Enjoy the company. I’ll be back soon.”

Then he left them alone.

The clock was ticking for a variety of reasons, but Quinn couldn’t jumpstart his mouth. This was too much like a horror movie come to life and his brain was having a hard time reconciling. What he wasn’t having a hard time with was his decision to do what he’d come to do. All he needed was a nod.

“Captain Edwards. Charlie. I’d like to talk to you about your plane crash.” Quinn took a notepad and pencil out of his pocket. On the pad he wrote:

_I think they’re listening. If you understand say it was a fine day until it all went wrong._

He showed the notebook to Edwards and winced as he watched the man struggle to focus his one good eye.

“The plane crash,” said Edwards, his words nearly as mangled as his body. “It was a fine day until it all went wrong.”

Perfect.

Quinn wrote another note.

_Your sister sent me. She loves you and wants to help._

“You said that you saw a beam of light in the sky. Like the sun coming through cloud cover only brighter.” He showed Edwards the note.

The man nodded and his one good eye grew cloudy with tears that soon joined the wet trail of saliva running down his face. “I felt arm.” Or maybe the word was warm. “Around me – no plane. Somewhere else.”

Quinn’s mind ran back to the early days of Blue Book. He could see a perfectly trim and proper Captain Edwards sitting across from him, explaining his close encounter with military accuracy. Altitude, airspeed, flight time and then the light. It was only the second time Quinn had heard anything like it (he’d heard plenty since then) and not a word of it rang true. Not then – but now. Since dooming the pilot to this special hell Quinn had felt the power of the lights. He’d felt the electricity in his body. He’d experienced the panic that came with giving them all control. He knew what it was like to fly amongst the lights and fear you’ll never make it home again.

He wrote two more words on the pad in large letters.

_I’m sorry._

He reached into his jacket and pulled out the vial. He swore he saw Edwards smile and then he was choking. His body bounced erratically and with only one good hand to steady himself he tumbled from the chair. Quinn ran to him, worried that the MP would come in to investigate.

He didn’t.

Quinn dropped to the floor, took hold of the pilot and tried to position him in a way that would help him breath smoothly again.

This wasn’t murder. This was mercy and still Quinn couldn’t do it without one more acknowledgement. He held the bottle in front of Edwards, the other arm steadying the man by the shoulders. At his ear, Quinn whispered, “tell me this is what you want.”

Edwards nodded. He pulled himself up as straight as possible and brought his one good hand to his forehead in a salute. “ **Virtute Alisque.” Not totally clear but Quinn understood.**

 **“** With Wings and Courage,” he translated the motto as he returned the salute. “Godspeed, Captain.” He opened the bottle, knew it was what he had to do and still he couldn’t put it to the man’s lips. Not until Edwards took hold of his wrist and guided his hand upward.

There was no mistaking the intention. Quinn kept the vial steady while Edwards made the move. To his lips. Down his throat. No going back now.

‘Thank you, Captain.” Edwards tried to squeeze Quinn’s shoulder but his hand moved in a direction of it’s own choosing. “Go.”

“No.” Quinn captured the man’s wandering hand in his, grasping it like a firm handshake. “I’ll stay until.”

And stay he did, until Captain Charlie Edwards of the US Air Force let out his last breath.

#   #  #

After a few hours of fitful sleep, Mimi appeared disheveled and drowsy and declared that she was going to make dinner.

“That’s not necessary,” Allen said, as he led her away from the stove. “I couldn’t eat a bite.”

“I’m hungry,” she declared, shook loose of him and went to the fridge.

Sleepwalking. But every time he tried to stop her she got more upset and insistent. “I have to cook dinner for my family. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

To keep her away from the stove, he convinced her that a cold supper of sandwiches would be his choice. (It’s too warm to have a hot meal – it wasn’t but it worked.) He still had to intervene when she grabbed a large knife to cut the bread, but he figured she was safe handling pre-sliced cold cuts, cheese and a butter knife for the mustard.

She told him to set the table and it felt good to have something to do other than pace, so he focused his mind on the domestic task. Plate. Plate.

“You’re missing a plate,” she said, an edge to her voice. “And pour a glass of milk for Joel, please.”

That stopped him dead, but he didn’t have the strength to fight her on it, so he set a third place with a glass of milk. Mimi had an assembly line going on three sandwiches, one with pickles but no mustard. Joel didn’t like mustard.

“Honey. . . “ He stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, chin at her shoulder. “I think the sleeping pills have you a little confused.”

“I’m not confused,” she shrugged him off. “Let me finish my work, please.”

Allen kissed his wife lightly on the cheek from behind then stepped out of the kitchen. He circled the passthrough, intending to meet her gaze from the other side but he turned when he heard the sound of the front door opening.

Quinn returning to say what. . . that he’d done it? That his conscience had made him a coward? Allen wasn’t sure which response was the one to hope for.

He started for the door, but it opened all the way before he got there, and Joel ran straight into his arms.

“Oh my god.” Allen scooped the boy off his feet so he could envelope him in a warm and total embrace. “What? How did you?”

“The lady dropped me off. She said to tell you she was sorry for scaring you. Were you scared, dad?”

“I was,” he admitted. “But here you are.” He whirled the boy around and there was Mimi, just standing a few feet away as if rooted to the ground. “He’s home,” Allen said as if that wasn’t clear enough. He set Joel on his feet and the boy ran into his mother’s arms.

“I missed you,” he said softly and all she could do was cry.

Allen gave them a minute then ruffled the boy’s hair. “Are you hungry? Your mom made sandwiches.”

Mimi stepped out of the embrace; her expression frantic. “I should have cooked a proper dinner. I should have made spaghetti. I know how you love spaghetti and meatballs. I should have made that. Sandwiches are for lunch. They’re not a proper dinner.”

“Honey,” Allen slipped his arm around her all too aware of how her behavior was affecting Joel. “What you made is fine. What’s important is that we’re all going to sit down and eat together.” He led her to her place at the table. Joel picked up the prepared plates and set them down as if this homey gesture might make everything alright.

When they were all seated, Allen leaned in toward his son and softly said, “mom’s had trouble sleeping and she took some medicine to help. It’s made her a little confused. That’s all it is. She’ll be fine in the morning.”

Joel didn’t look convinced, but it was the best Allen could do.

As they ate, Allen couldn’t take his eyes off the boy. He wanted to ask if the woman had received a call before dropping him off, but he chose to believe that she’d simply come to her senses. He made small talk, asking about the Tom Corbett book and how was the sandwich? It all felt awkward and wrong, but it was better than talking about what had transpired over the past 24 hours.

They were just finished eating, with Mimi pushing cake for dessert on them both when the door opened again.

This time it was Quinn and he looked as worn and glazed as Mimi. His expression changed instantly though when he saw Joel.

 

“Captain Quinn!” Joel ran to greet him, stopping just short of a hug.

“He just walked through the door about an hour ago.” And that was all Allen could say right here and now.

Quinn dropped to one knee in front of the boy and gripped him by the shoulders. While he struggled to find the words to say, Joel beat him to it.

“I tried to be really brave, like you. I tried to be a good soldier.”

What to say to that? Quinn answered him with a hug. “I’m sure you were both of those things and I’m glad you’re home. Your dad and I need to talk for a bit. When we’re done, I’ll come have cake with you, how about that?”

Joel nodded, the enormity of it all finally catching in his throat. When Quinn stood, Joel ran back to his mother.

Without a word, Allen headed for his study and Quinn followed. As soon as they were inside with the door shut, Allen started in.

 “Please tell me you didn’t. She came to her senses and let Joel go. Yes?”

When Quinn didn’t answer right away, Allen began to pace, fingers rubbing roughly over his forehead and eyes.

“It’s not what you think,” said Quinn.

“I think you killed a man!” Allen shouted then instantly pulled back. “I know you did it for my son and I am so grateful that he’s home safe but Michael, every time I look at him now, I’ll think about Edwards, giving up his life!”

“Allen, stop.” Quinn reached for him, but the older man pulled away backing himself into the far corner of the room.

“They’re going to know you did it. There’s no way they won’t find out. Then you’ll be arrested for murder. How do I explain that to Joel? That the man he idolizes is a killer!”

“Stop.” Angry now, almost a growl. “I didn’t kill him. I helped him die. There’s a difference.” 

“What?”

“You didn’t see him. What they did to him. He was like a monster from a horror picture. Deformed, his face sliding,” Quinn pulled at his own face but couldn’t come close to approximating what he’d witnessed. “He could barely hold himself up and was choking on his own spit. Doc, I thought I’d seen the worst one man could do to another when I walked through that camp in Germany. But what they did to Edwards was a hundred times worse because it was done to him by our own people. The Air Force – the organization I’ve dedicated my entire life to. The men I followed because I thought it was for the greater good. They turned their backs on him. They betrayed him and ME.”

Quinn pulled out his cigarettes, but his hand was shaking so badly he simply threw the pack down on Allen’s desk.

“How many more of them are there? Edwards was the third one we’ve seen up close. Not counting the Foo Fighter boys and all the others who made it out with just a little tinkering of the brain. How many more monsters do they have locked away on bases all over the country? 10? 100? And for what? What the hell are they trying to do? And why the hell are we helping them cover it up?”

The rage that had been building for almost 2 days now spilled over. Quinn grabbed a large book from Allen’s desk, picked it up, whirled and threw it at the wall. It hit a framed photo shattering the glass, knocking it off the wall.

“We aren’t helping them,” Allen snapped back then lowered his voice, finding his own calm. “We’re slowly uncovering the truth and we can’t do that from the outside. If you really want to stop them, we must keep playing along. But now. . . “ Allen stepped closer like he wanted to physically touch his partner but never quite got there. “People know that you were with Edwards. That you were the last person to see him alive. If they arrest you—”

“They won’t. They can’t. Because to put me on trial, they’d have to admit what they did to him and they’re not going to do that. Not in public. Not in open court.” Calmer now. “They can’t arrest me without revealing the truth. And you know how much they hate dealing in truths. I’ll be fine.”

Allen sighed. “Maybe you won’t be arrested but I don’t think you’ll be fine. But that’s a talk for another day. Right now, my son is home safe and there’s cake. Let’s take the small victory and move on.” Allen headed for the door, his hand lightly brushing Quinn’s arm as he passed.

“Doc. One more thing.”

Allen visibly tensed as if sensing what that last thing was. He kept his back turned like a repeat of the other morning when he’d lit into Faye.

“The one thing they all had in common – they were all pilots who had an encounter with the lights.”

“Close encounter of the second kind,” Allen said absently.

“I had a close encounter of the second kind – twice actually. That’s why I need a promise from you.”

Allen started shaking his head no, so Quinn moved closer and spoke louder, slower, more firmly.

“If they ever do that to me. If they ever mess with my mind, experiment on me, promise me—”

“Don’t say it!” Allen turned; eyes wet with tears. “Please don’t ask that of me.”

Quinn swallowed hard, fighting back his own swell of emotions. “Promise me, you’ll do what ever it takes to help me die. Give me your word.”

“I can’t promise you. Michael, it would be a lie.” Allen stumbled forward, both of his hands landing flat on Quinn’s chest. “What I can promise is that if they ever did that to you, I’d do everything I could to save you.”

Quinn bit down hard until his jaw was visibly clenched then he tipped his head slightly in that strained, neck cracking habit that he had when he was fighting to keep it together. “That’s not good enough.”

“It—” Allen stopped at the sound of a gentle knock on the door.

“Dad. Can you come out here?” Soft, scared – not surprising given all that had transpired, and heaven knows what Mimi had been saying and doing since they’d left her alone with the boy.

“Just one minute, son.” Allen let his hands fall, stepped back, but as he turned Quinn caught him by the elbow.

 “Doc. There’s a cell down there with my name on it. It’s only a matter of time.”

Allen glanced at the hand on his arm, then met Quinn’s gaze for only two seconds before turning away. “I’ll save you,” he repeated. “Whatever it takes, Captain, I’ll save you.”

Allen left the study, closing the door behind him. “Captain Quinn will be out in a minute,” he said to his son, voice fading as he moved away.

Quinn cracked his neck again. Picked up the cigarette pack and fought through the shakes to light up. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the first drag but what he got was the tortured, twisted image of man who had been one of the Air Forces’ best and brightest.

Not Charlie Edwards, but Captain Michael Quinn – mangled mind, mangled body, desperately wishing for it all to end.

Whatever it takes, I’ll save you. . . .

Quinn blew out a trail of smoke and forced himself to believe that if it came right down to it, Allen would ‘save’ him with a cigarette laced with deadly white powder.

 

_Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,_

_And lose the name of action._

The End

 

 

 


End file.
